


Fray

by abdicatedempress



Series: boxer au [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Violence, its just bahorel not understanding what is offensive, more to come probably - Freeform, only a little tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abdicatedempress/pseuds/abdicatedempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire snorted. The winner looked nothing like a boxer. He was a thin man, whose bones stuck out from his freckle-spotted skin. Bruises blossomed up quickly from the punches he took, and yet here we was, still standing despite the tough opponent.</p>
<p>He had flowers braided into his hair for fucks sake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Something I'm trying to work on. I'll probably have some one shots in this au too.

The swinging fist cut through the air, landing against the opponent’s chest. The man fell backwards with an “oof!” and the makeshift bell rang, declaring the winner.

Grantaire snorted. The winner looked nothing like a boxer. He was a thin man, whose bones stuck out from his freckle-spotted skin. Bruises blossomed up quickly from the punches he took, and yet here we was, still standing despite the tough opponent.

He had flowers braided into his hair for fucks sake.

Grantaire snubbed out his cigarette, sighing a little bit. The games must have been getting rigged. It was the only way. They needed the money after all, and they’d probably make a killing off people betting for the little guy to lose. It sucked that they had grown this desperate for money, but the cops were getting on their asses about it, coming so close to finding them numerous times. Everyone in the city knew they existed. But when and where was a whole different story.

He picked up his glass, bringing the amber liquid to his lips. He drank it, the warm feeling filling his belly then set it down. He sighed and walked towards the ring, to a man who stood beside it. He patted the larger guy on the back, grabbing his attention.

“Hey, you fighting tonight?” he asked.  
“Nah,” the man replied in a gruff voice. “Bossman has some set up planned with that twink over there.”

Grantaire nodded a bit, following the other’s gaze to the flowery, there was no other way to describe him, man.  
“Thanks, Bahorel,” he said before walking back to his seat, earning a nod from the other man.

He didn’t know why this man intrigued him so much. Maybe it was the way the bruises colored his body, or the way it moved so gracefully, or how it looked with sweat glistening on it.. He gulped a bit, and decided instead to down the rest of his drink.

No matter. This guy was just a publicity stunt. Grantaire knew it must be, and Bahorel pretty much confirmed his suspicions with his comment. He sighed, ordering another drink. He’d sure as hell need it.


	2. Chapter 2

The new kid only lost one out of five fights. The one he lost was his last one for the night, probably because he was so beaten up, or so Grantaire reckoned. The daisies had been knocked from his hair, hell the whole ponytail was falling apart. His hair swirled around him as he fought. He looked like an angel.

He was all smiles as he hopped out of the ring, taking his defeat well. Grantaire watched as the man tossed off his gloves and swung a towel over his shoulders, wiping sweat off his body. He turned to the bar, and Grantaire immediately turned, not wanting to appear as if he was staring.

The boxer approached the empty seat beside Grantaire, sitting down gingerly. He ordered a drink in a breathless voice before taking the towel and stuffing the corner into his mouth. After a few moments, he slid it out and inspected it. He glanced at Grantaire, who couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the scene, and simply smiled.

“No blood,” he practically chirped, taking the towel and then wiping sweat off of his neck. Grantaire smiled a bit.  
“Unless it’s your own, I’d be careful about putting that into your mouth,” he said. He looked back at his drink, only for the other to continue talking.  
“Thank you for the advice!” he said, and slid his hand over to Grantaire. After a quick handshake, the boxer quickly added, “My name is Jean. Or Jehan! I’m rather compliant with either one, though I do have a preference for Jehan!”

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile as he listened to Jehan go on. It was nice to know someone besides him could talk a lot.  
“I’m Grantaire,” he replied. “I’ve never seen you here before, how did you get into this?”  
“Ah, Mr. Valjean is my teacher!” Jehan explained.

Grantaire blinked. The boss of an underground boxing rink was a teacher? Sure the guy was nice and all but it was weird to think of. Jehan laughed upon seeing Grantaire’s expression.

“He’s more of a trainer, not a teacher. He teaches weight training classes at my gym and he said I had potential and invited me!” he quickly added before turning to the bartender who handed him a colorful drink. He began to sip it, and Grantaire let out a soft chuckle.

“Makes a lot of sense,” he said after a moment, taking a swig from his bottle of beer. “Everyone was saying they must have started rigging the fights, but it looks like you can really take people down.” He gave a smirk to Jehan, who returned it with an evil glimmer in his eyes.

“Oh, so people don’t think I could fight?” he asked, crossing his arms over his thin chest. Grantaire merely shrugged in reply, going back to drinking his beer.

“Fine!” Jehan stated, placing his hands on the bar. “Tomorrow we’ll fight and I’ll show you.” He elbowed Grantaire before finishing off his drink and paying for it. He stood up and walked off leaving a mist of flowers and sweat in his wake.

Grantaire blinked. Did he really just agree to fight someone? He rubbed his side where the elbow connected with him. The boney joint really left an impact on him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire confides into Bahorel at the Gym, enter The Big Boss

Bahorel let out a deep laugh straight from his belly.  
“R, you’re not a fighter, but trust me, you could beat him,” he said, pouring water into his mouth from a bottle. Grantaire rolled his eyes, watching the man return to his training.

“I don’t think it’s fake. He seems like he’s strong,” Grantaire replied, his arms hanging over his chair as he sat in it backwards. He watched as Bahorel started on the butterfly machine. It was always impressive to watch the man work out. He could probably lift a ship if he tried hard enough. 

“Boys.” A gruff voice broke the silence that had settled between the two. Grantaire turned, looking at the man who has approached them. He smiled a bit.

“Hey, Mr. Valjean,” he said, raising a hand in a sort of limp salute. Bahorel let go of the machine, letting his arms flop to his sides.  
“Hey, Mr. V,” he added. Valjean nodded his head and took a seat.

“I might have to close the rink tomorrow night,” he said, dropping his voice low. Grantaire blinked, and looked at Bahorel who had immediately shot up.  
“Aw, come on! I didn’t get to fight last night, I wanted to tomorrow!” he groaned loudly. Valjean simply looked at him, and under his gaze Bahorel lost his will to be angry and sat back down, grumbling.

“Good,” Grantaire said. “That new kid challenged me to a fight-”

He was interrupted by Valjean’s laughter. The man, while nice and caring deep down, never really openly laughed. Needless to say it was definitely unexpected. Grantaire looked over at Bahorel, who looked as surprised as he did.

“Well if you want to be turned into a carpet, go ahead, fight him,” Valjean said, a mirthful smile still on his lips. “But not tomorrow. I don’t have the money to have it open on a Thursday. Friday it’ll be open, just because that brings more cash.”

“Wait, are you saying I couldn’t take him?” Grantaire interrupted, frowning. Now he felt annoyed.  
“You’re not a fighter, and he is,” Valjean spoke simply, shrugging a bit. “That’s how it goes.”

Grantaire frowned. Of course he wouldn’t judge based on looks alone but.. Jehan simply acted too sweet to really fight. But if Valjean said he was a fighter, it must be true.

“Of course, maybe people would pay money to watch your ass get kicked,” Bahorel chimed in with a cold laugh. Grantaire shot him a look, but not before Valjean let out a gasp.

“That could be a good idea. I mean. Someone who looks like a fighter but isn’t versus someone who is a fighter but doesn’t look it. Could be interesting,” he said, rubbing his stubble-covered chin. “If you want to prove you can take him down, of course, Grantaire.”

Grantaire blinked. Did he even want to? He knew that Jehan must have been strong if Valjean said so. However, he was sure he could take him. He was sure he could be an even match.

He nodded his head.

“Great. Then forget what I said, we’re not closing tomorrow night.” Valjean gave the two boys a nod before standing and setting off.


End file.
